


Don't You Cry For Me

by ObliqueOptimism



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Good Sister Allison Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-24 16:34:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21341311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliqueOptimism/pseuds/ObliqueOptimism
Summary: Allison has returned to California for a few days, needing to get back to her life. She then got her hands on the many letters her siblings wrote her over the years and, having recently reunited with them, decided she'd finally read them.She wished she'd read them sooner.
Comments: 74
Kudos: 712





	1. Their Letters

**Author's Note:**

> okay! chapter one is very sad! i plan to fix that in chapter two! which i hope to have done in a day or two. (i've been busy today) there is a number of rough stuff implied in this fic, so be safe my friends! we can only blame my friends sam and remus as between the three of us we basically planned this out.

Allison kissed Ellie’s cheek in greeting, “I’ve missed you.”

“I bet you have,” Ellie laughed. “Who got your coffee without me?”

“Can you believe I once got my family coffee?” Allison joked back. 

“Was it nice seeing them again?” Ellie asked hesitantly. “Is the sibling ban over?”

Allison had forgotten she’d told her personal assistant years ago that she didn’t want any calls or letters from her family. “Of course, oh God. I can’t believe I ever set that up,” she frowned.

Ellie shrugged, “Honestly, I have a box full of their letters. I kept them, always thinking that one day you’d want to see them.”

“Of course, please bring them by tomorrow?” Allison asked. “I’d appreciate it.”

So the next evening Allison found herself alone, sitting on the floor, with a big box full of unopened envelopes in front of her. _There were a lot of them._

She decided to sort them by person.

Luther had sent her four letters. Diego had maybe sent her a postcard from his gym. Klaus had _sent a lot._. Vanya had two letters.

Smallest pile to largest.

The postcard was first then. Picking it up and looking at the handwriting it turned out no, it wasn’t from Diego. Klaus had written her, mentioning Diego’s first fight the the gym and how proud he was of Diego, getting paid to beat people up. She smiled at how Klaus mentioned he felt comfortable in that gym, not because Diego was there, but there was a pride flag on the wall. “Why would Diego being there make me feel safe? He’d just invite me in the ring to teach me how to punch a dude. As if we didn’t learn that when we were five.”

Vanya next. 

The first letter was sent not long after Allison had left. A nice note wishing her well and giving her, at the time, address in case she wanted to write back. Allison felt a tug at her heart. She should have made time for Vanya, even if it was a letter once a month. 

At least she’d make time for her now.

The second letter was dated just before Vanya’s book had come out. She explained how she had to write it, was sorry but her story needed told. _Their story._ It was close to an apology letter, but because of therapy, Allison was aware this was not a _real_ apology. It was something she sent to make herself feel better. Allison didn’t hold the letter against her, it was what she needed to do at the time. Besides, time had changed. 

They’d really changed.

Setting Vanya’s letter on the postcard, Allison then picked up Luther’s letters. 

They were his thoughts on how everyone was, wishing her well, poems that made him think of her, him describing a flower he saw or a mission he’d been on. The third letter asked if she was getting his previous ones. He asked if he should stop writing. If she wanted left alone, to forget them, like the others forgot him. 

The fourth letter was just the word ‘goodbye’. 

It now had her tears staining it.

She set it gently aside and with a glance at the _pile_ that was Klaus’s, she decided to get some tea and take a soothing bubble bath before tackling it. 

Feeling refreshed from her break, she sat down and didn’t even try to read Klaus’s in order. There were just too many.

After she read them, Allison sorted Klaus’s letters by type. 

The first pile hurt her heart. It was always a scrawled mess that didn’t make much sense. She didn’t usually try to finish the letters when she realized it was one he wrote when he was that fucked up. It was touching that while he was so out of it, he still wanted to write her but none of it made any sense. It was such a mess.

The second pile was mostly drawings. Sometimes there would be a few sentences, but she’d get portraits of his friends, stray cats, a pill bottle next to a needle, Ben. So many drawings of Ben. Laughing, rolling his eyes, looking worried, a content smile as he pet one of the previously drawn stray cats.

Her hands shook.

This whole time--

_This whole time--_

Any drawings of Ben she gently put aside. Maybe one day she’d frame them.

The third pile was from when he spent time in prison. Letters talking about the other inmates, about the ghosts, so many ghosts, there was one line that shook so much she could hardly make it out, saying he was sorry his letter was late, but he’d been locked in solitary. Her heart clenched, knowing he was severely claustrophobic. 

The fourth pile was from rehab. They were similar to the prison ones, talking about the other patients, about the ghost, so many ghosts. But then they talked about group therapy and he’d throw in some lines he’d been told by the workers. _Life goes on, whether you participate or not._ and _life isn’t fair, so you should be_ and _tough times don’t last, tough people do_ and _staying positive does not mean that things will turn out okay; rather it is knowing that you will be okay no matter how things turn out_. 

Sometimes he made fun of the ‘lame quotes’ they spouted at group. “_Push yourself because no one else is going to do it._ Obviously they’ve never met our father.”

A number of his rehab letter started with, “Well, my heart stopped again”. She found he was more honest in them. Mentioning the 12 steps sometimes. He spoke of their childhood and what he went through. He spoke of his time just after leaving and not caring if his boyfriends hit him, he’d take a little pain to go with his free drugs and free affection. He spoke of attacks he’d survived, bigots who wanted a piece of his skin, men and women who wanted a piece of his body _and forcefully taking it_, ghosts who told him the most _awful_ things.

The fifth and last pile was when he wasn’t in prison or rehab or out of his mind on drugs. They were upbeat and happy. Cheerful. Full of jokes and compliments. Discussing her dresses he saw her in and how he’d look better in some of them but don’t worry, he wouldn’t steal her thunder on the red carpet. He had a review for each movie he’d been in. Going on about the plot an her performance, no matter how small her part was, how he would have changed the movie if he was in charge. He usually made it gay. He asked about Patrick and Claire. He took an interest in her life, more interest than she had ever taken in his, even during the past week.

Then there was one letter unlike the rest. She wasn’t sure when he wrote it, where it fit in in the timeline. 

He knew she wasn’t getting his mail. He didn’t blame her. Why would she read any of his letters? He told himself the reason why she didn’t write back is that he didn’t have an address, but he knew better. _He knew better._ He didn’t blame her. If given the chance, he’d have nothing to do with him either. He was worthless. He wasn’t worth her time, not even his words. He didn’t blame her. He wished her well. He hoped she wouldn’t find this letter after he’d-- She shouldn’t blame herself. Not for ignoring his letters, not for not getting this note in time. After all, if she did actually read his letters, by the time this one arrived he’d have already-- She would have a phone call. 

He asked if she’d wear Valentino to his funeral.

The problem was, she did blame herself. 

No matter how much he told her not to, she did.

She bawled that night, thankful that he either failed, chickened out, or hopefully got help.

When she was out of tears, she called the Academy, needing to make sure that Klaus was still there. That he was still alive. She didn’t even think about what time it would be for them. She had been greeted with Klaus himself, “Hell-- Shut your trap, Ben! Hello, you’ve reached the new and improved Umbrella Academy. May I take your order?”

She almost started crying again. Instead she said she said she was check in with them, had a free moment. Everyone was still okay without her? Treating Vanya right? Are the others-- Are they being nice to him? 

“Oh sure, I mean, not Ben. He’s being a know-it-all dickwad. But that’s par for the course. Remember when Dad took us golfing? Diego was _so mad_ he had to use the golf club and wasn’t allowed to throw the balls.”

Eventually their conversation wound down, they said goodbye and Allison tried to ignore how much her hands shook as she hung up the phone.

She needed to do something, to show him-- to show them all, how much they meant to her.

It was time to plan.

In the morning, she used the back of one of the many envelopes to make a list of ways to be there for her siblings. 

She was going to fix this.


	2. Her Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for talk about attempted suicide.

Beyond calling them every day, there wasn’t much else she could do for a week. 

But she had a plan on what to do, how to make it up to them.

Some were easier than others. Less time consuming.

She got started on the way back from the airport.

Getting coffee and baked goods for everyone wouldn’t fix anything, but it was her showing she cared for them. 

However that was her main plan for Five. Of course she didn’t have any letters from him, but she wasn’t going to leave him out of her attempts to fix their relationships. So she’d decided to buy him a nice coffee maker, expensive coffee beans, coffee from shops. She’d just be there for him, be ready to help him when she could. 

For Diego, who hadn’t actually sent her anything, she thought she’d take an interest in his fights, like the postcard from Klaus suggested. It wouldn’t be hard to find out when his next one was and go cheer him on. Whenever she was in town and aware of a fight, she would be there. 

Maybe she’d ask their mom if she had any ideas of other things she could do for Diego.

Beyond general bonding with Vanya, Allison had a specific idea. She hoped that her plan didn’t backfire, that Vanya would understand that she was trying to be supportive. Taking the copy of Vanya’s book she went up to her early one morning. Giving a warm smile, Allison held it out with a pen, “Sorry I didn’t ask earlier. Can I have your autograph? I’d love a signed copy.”

Vanya’s head ducked for a second, she blushed and shuffled her feet. “_You_ want _my_ autograph?”

“Of course,” Allison said. “Why wouldn’t I want my sister’s signature?”

Vanya smiled back, taking the book and signing it. “I know you didn’t like it but--”

“I’m proud of you,” Allison interrupted. “You wrote a book! That is a lot of work. It’s a project you were passionate about. My feelings on it doesn’t make what you accomplished any less impressive. Remember that being positive doesn’t mean it will be okay, but it’s knowing you’ll be okay, no matter what others think.”

“That’s not how the saying goes,” Klaus’s voice had a strange tone to it, as he stared at them with wide eyes from the doorway. He glanced to the side, “What? It’s not. I know it was close but-- Nevermind.” He looked at Allison and Vanya, “Nevermind.” He quickly disappeared.

Vanya shrugged and turned back to Allison, forgetting Klaus was ever there. She handed the book back after writing a note in it. “Thank you, Allison.”

“Of course,” Allison gave Vanya a hug. As she held her close she eyed the doorway, worried. Did she spook Klaus? Was he going to avoid her, thinking she read his letters?

She hoped not.

For Luther she started with some bookmarks of pressed flowers. She made sure to get some of the flowers he’d spoken about. Not that he would remember which flowers he’d written her but she wanted to somehow let him know she did care.

She didn’t intend to leave him alone.

Then she bought some poetry books by the poets he’d used. Putting the bookmarks in the books, she left them in his room, marking a poem she liked. A poem that made her think of him. 

After that she planned on spending time with him. With everyone really. But she wanted to mend what they had. She missed her best friend. 

She’d been a young and dumb when she left, she had thought cutting ties with everyone would be best. But if she hadn’t cut out her family? Her best friend? 

She could only mend what she’d broke.

Klaus was harder.

Allison didn’t want to spook him, make him defensive. So she wrote him a letter about her week away and left it under his door. The next day she wrote another one, thoughts on fashion over the last decade and how he probably could have pulled off some of the looks better than her and left that under his door. The next letter was some of her general thoughts, ending with how much he meant to her, once again left under his door.

Every morning she would leave a letter for him. During the day she never acknowledged either of their writings, but she did make sure to talk to him more, ask his opinion, offer her closet to him. Afterall, she wasn’t sure what all she had left and who knew how much still fit her. If he found anything at least she knew it’d be worn by someone who appreciated her clothes. 

It took a week.

As she slid the seventh letter under his door, it opened. 

“Get in here,” Klaus pulled her inside and shut the door after them.

Two weeks since Allison read Klaus’s letters, one week after she started writing him back, they were going to have a conversation about it.

They sat down on his bed. He pulled his knees close to his chest and hugged them. Resting his chin on them, he eyed her, “You weren’t supposed to read them.”

“Then you shouldn't have sent them,” Allison shrugged. 

“That first time you called?” Klaus asked hesitantly, “Was that--?”

“After I read them, yes,” Allison answered. “I knew it was silly but I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“Ah,” Klaus said, silent for a moment. “So you found _that one_ too?”

Swallowing she nodded, “I’m sorry. Sorry for never replying, for never believing you about Ben -- you’re drawings of him are--” She cleared her throat, “If I had been opening your letters before hand, I would have believed you about him, I could have been there for you, _that letter_ maybe wouldn’t have been written. Can I ask what happened?”

Klaus glanced to their right, to an empty chair. It struck her that while she thought she was having a private conversation with Klaus that _maybe_ someone else was there too. _Maybe_ it was Ben. 

“Obviously nothing. I’m still here, aren’t I?” His tone was off. She shivered, feeling -- _knowing_ he’d just lied to her. 

“Klaus--”

He ran a hand through his hair, “Usually when I died it wasn’t planned. You got that, right? Accidental overdoses. All of them. Wake up laughing in the ambulance, nothing gets you higher than cheating death. It was fine.” He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, “All accidents, I promise.”

“You said ‘usually’. _’Usually when I died_’. Klaus?” Her voice shook.

“Well there was at the rave with, Luther, you know,” he hedged. 

“The letter Klaus. What happened?”

He shot a dirty look to the chair, “You know I wrote her a lot. There isn’t one letter that-- Ben! You would have known if I had killed myself, you know that.”

“So you didn’t do it?” Allison let out a relieved breath. 

“What? No. Of course not. _Obviously no._”

She froze at his lies, “Klaus. I understand if talking about it will trigger similar thoughts again, but I need you to know that I am here for you and if you ever feel that way again, you can come to me and I will be there or you this time.”

“It’s not-- _I’m fine_,” Klaus protested while his voice and body language screamed otherwises. “I had a very bad time for a bit and _nothing happened._ Ben can agree. He never saw me kill myself.” His back straightened, “_Ben._ I-- I would never have let you see me do that.”

She breathed as quietly as she could as he was clearly listening to something Ben was saying. She wished Klaus could manifest him so she could follow the conversation fully but she’d never as Klaus of that right now. 

He covered his eyes with his hands and let out a whine, “Ben, please don’t ask that. You don’t-- _You had left, okay?_” Klaus now turned to face the chair directly, his tone sharp, “I was being more of a dick than usual, trying to push you away. I wasn’t going to let you see me _do that_ so I wrote the letter, made you angry as planned and then I hung myself, okay? Are you happy now, Ben?

“Shit,” Klaus cursed before covering his face again. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“But it’s the truth?” Allison asked. “I can’t speak for Ben, but I’d like to know what happened so that if you ever-- so I can help.” 

“Won’t happen again,” Klaus protested, his voice muffled by his hands. “Didn’t stick. Woke up.”

“Someone had found you? Got you down? Maybe you hadn’t--” She knew that usually necks break, then strangulation if the neck doesn't get them. She knew that many people make the noose wrong and suffer as they die, but that gives them time to be found and cut down.

He subtly shook his head, “No. I cut myself down, had a knife in my pocket.” He looked up at them, glancing at both her and Ben, “It uh, it took some _tries_ before I cut myself loose.”

Allison knew she was crying. 

“Oh? Just uh, y’know how it is Ben. Sex and torture aren’t the only time I’ve been strangled,” Klaus’s weak attempt at a joke seemed to fall flat. It did for her. “_Ben, no._ Remember? I pushed you away. I made it so that you weren’t there. Hm? Yeah.”

If he had succeeded -- if he had stayed dead, would they ever have known? Would she ever know to go look for him? She’d failed him already. She hadn’t been there. She’d cast him aside. 

Never again. 

Moving closer, she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry, Klaus. I’m sorry that you thought your only outlet had been to try and kill yourself. I wish I had been a healthier option for you, all those letters.”

Klaus snorted, “Yeah, writing everything down helped some. Get my feelings out without badgering Ben with them.” He shot a small smile at where Ben’s chair. He then looked at her, “Oh don’t cry, Allison. I’m fine. See?” He snuggled closer to her, “Even though you uh, weren’t there, _you were there_ for me. I got to write you letters.”

Allison wiped at her tears, “You don’t have to stop.”

The next day Allison found a letter under her door. After reading it, she wrote a reply and slid it under Klaus’s door. She smiled slightly and hugged herself afterwards. His letter had been thankful, kind. Said they should never speak of it. 

She pointed out letters weren’t speaking of it. They were their own thing.

So Allison found herself with a pen pal when she was at the Academy. Trading letters with Klaus at least once a day. They never spoke aloud what they spoke of in the letters. It was its own conversation. But sometimes they shared a knowing look over a joke they had made or went out and did the plans they had made. 

When she was back in California there were late night calls for each of them, instead of daily letters. However she was surprised when Ellie handed her a stack of mail. It was all drawings from Klaus. They were of their family. Many more of Ben, some of her. Luther with flowers in his hair, Five smiling at a cup of coffee, Diego hugging their mom, Vanya looking happy. He never sent her actual letters when she was in California, just more drawings.

All told, it worked out. She was grateful for Ellie keeping her mail for so many years. She’d found it easier to start to rebuild her relationships with her siblings because of them. They were growing together. And if she gave Klaus fancy calligraphy pens along with sparkly gel pens, well, no one else needed to know why. 

However, she should have thought about how staring at hot pink glitter scrawl would not be pleasant. 

She replied in lime green.

**Author's Note:**

> obliqueoptimism @ tumblr


End file.
